


In my head

by what_a_dork_fish



Series: Cheriks [3]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Fluff, Kisses, M/M, seriously there is nothing to this, utter fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-19 23:31:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10650354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_a_dork_fish/pseuds/what_a_dork_fish
Summary: A short conversation late at night.





	In my head

Erik moves his knight without looking at it, absorbed in his newspaper.

Charles takes the knight with his rook. “Are you even paying attention to me?” he demands.

“Of course I am,” Erik answers absently, flipping a page. “You were telling me about your latest paper detailing the best ways to remain genetically diverse by encouraging…” He trails off, and straightens his newspaper, pretending to be entirely absorbed in his reading.

“That was yesterday, Erik,” Charles says flatly, as Erik’s king moves. Charles checks him with his queen. “What was I talking about two minutes ago?”

“Did you know the prime minister—“

“ _Erik_.”

Erik finally looks up, a mulish expression on his face. But there usually is. “I was reading,” he defends himself.

“I know for a fact that you are completely capable of both reading and listening,” Charles retorts. Then, mentally, he demands, _What are you thinking about?_

Erik hides behind his newspaper again and moves a rook. Bad choice; Charles takes his king and puts it down beside the board a little harder than necessary.

“You’ve been distracted for two weeks,” Charles states. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar.”

“It’s _nothing_.”

Charles stands and circles the table to snatch the newspaper. Erik lets him, surprisingly enough, keeping his head bowed so Charles can’t see his expression. The other sighs and kneels in front of him, taking his face in both hands and turning him to look at Charles.

_What’s wrong?_ he asks again, silently.

Erik looks Charles in the eyes and his mouth twists, brooding becoming discomfort becoming true pain.

_I think…_ the thought whispers out, _I think I… but I don’t know. Not yet._

Charles smooths his thumb along Erik’s cheekbone. _Tell me when you know_.

~

He’s reading in bed with a cup of herbal tea (he’s been coughing lately and it’s been getting worse) when there comes a soft knock on the door.

_Come in,_ he calls silently, eyes never lifting from the pages.

It’s Erik. Of course it’s Erik. He steals in on silent feet, closes the door behind him, and walks right over to the bed, looming over Charles. He’s still dressed in his day-to-day wear, black polo neck and grey trousers. He’s not wearing shoes, though, which Charles finds thoughtful. He’d be very annoyed if he were to find dirt on his favorite carpet.

Charles closes his book and looks up at Erik, more curious than concerned. “Yes?” he asks softly.

Erik stares at him, frowning, as if trying to figure him out. Charles waits patiently. They’ve played this game before, seeing whose patience lasts longer. Usually it’s Erik’s, because Charles is a chatterbox compared to him, but sometimes Charles wins because he is too smug to share the answer. Or he doesn’t know what the question is. Erik is… illegible, sometimes. Undecipherable. It’s quite thrilling.

Suddenly, Erik steps forward and sits on the edge of Charles’ bed, one hand braced on his opposite side, still managing to loom even though he’s now eye-level with Charles. Charles don’t move, blinks placidly, fights a small smile. He likes having Erik so close. Maybe Erik will finally touch him, instead of Charles always being the one to initiate contact. That would be nice. But how would Erik touch him? On the cheek? The corner of his mouth? Would he touch with just his fingertips or would he kiss Charles?

Erik’s expression is impossible to read. And then, suddenly, he cracks a tiny smile.

“You’re not afraid of me,” he murmurs.

“Of course not,” Charles replies easily, just as quiet.

“That’s what I like most about you,” Erik whispers, staring into Charles’ eyes. “You know what I can do, what I have done, and you’re not afraid.”

“You hold no malice towards me,” Charles answers. “Why should I fear that which has only brought me happiness?”

Erik’s smile fades, to confusion, doubt, and distress. Charles frowns, suddenly worried. “Was that the wrong thing to say? I’m sorry, Erik, I—“

“I bring you happiness.” He says it in a complete monotone.

“Yes.” Charles hesitates, then goes on, “You listen to me ramble, even when I go on too long. You play chess with me. You help with the others, with teaching them. You’re funny, and intelligent, and I like having you around.”

“Do you like me?”

It’s asked so hesitantly, so quietly, and Erik looks suddenly so small, that Charles can’t help softening, touching Erik’s face, running his fingers along his jawline to trace up below his ear and run through his hair.

“Yes,” he murmurs, smiling softly. “I like you.”

Erik closes his eyes, leans into the touch; so Charles lifts his other hand, cradles Erik’s face in his palms, wants to kiss him. And he doesn’t need to be a telepath to know that Erik wants to kiss back, though it certainly helps, when brushing against his mind shows lowered defenses and an intense desire to touch, held in check by an iron will.

Charles wants to dive right in, get lost in Erik’s mind, in the twisting caverns, so alluring and strange and dangerous—but he knows better. So instead he says, “Sit by me.”

“You nearly went in,” Erik murmurs without opening his eyes. “Into my head.”

“Yes.”

“I love it when you do that.”

“Do what?”

“Get into my head.” Then Erik suddenly climbs up on the bed and over Charles to settle beside him, sliding his arm around Charles’ waist, leaning his head on Charles’ shoulder, forehead pressed to his neck. “You’re there so often, it’s like you never leave.”

Charles raises his hand and rubs his thumb along the bottom of Erik’s jaw. “I’ve never looked in your mind without your permission,” he murmurs, confused.

“Then why am I always thinking about you?” Erik asks softly, tightening his arm around Charles’ waist.

Charles smiles, though Erik can’t see it. “I don’t know. Why am _I_ always thinking about _you_?”

Erik is silent for a while. Charles leans his head back and just revels in the closeness. His skin is tingling pleasantly where it comes into contact with Erik’s. He likes it a lot. He hopes Erik will stay in his bed with him for the night.

“Read to me,” Erik commands.

“You won’t like this book,” Charles warns, obediently cracking it open. “It’s a medical text about—“

“Just read it. Please. Charles.”

He smiles again, hearing his name on Erik’s lips. “Alright,” he says.

Erik falls asleep after three paragraphs, still pressed close to Charles. It’s… nice. Comfortable. There’s a warmth in his chest that has nothing to do with his tea, which is cold and bitter now. It’s big and soft and fills all of him in pulses, and he feels too big for this puny body, too full of this warmth, just for Erik, only for Erik.

Charles picks up Erik’s hand, very carefully, and kisses his palm. The fingers spasm for a second, but otherwise Erik remains still besides his chest rising and falling. Charles gets bold, kissing each fingertip oh so lightly, all over his palm, pressing kisses to his wrist, trailing down his arm, stopping just short of the number. He knows how sensitive Erik is about it. He lets the springy fabric of Erik’s sleeve cover the number again.

“No,” Erik mumbles, “Don’t stop.”

Charles hesitates, then pushes back the fabric again and kisses all the way down to Erik’s elbow, kissing above and below the number, but never directly on it. Erik exhales shakily, curving his arm to bury his thoroughly-kissed hand in Charles’ hair.

“How do you do it?” he croaks. “How do you get in my head like this?”

The too-big warmth is pulsing stronger, making him brave and reckless (but really, is there a difference?). “I don’t know. But I want to stay there. Can I?”

“Yes,” Erik breathes.


End file.
